Lessons in Love
by bluesnowflake44
Summary: Casey realizes that there are quite a few things about flirting that she still doesn't get, but a certain step-brother may be more knowledgeable... Dasey.


Lessons in Love

Lessons in Love

"ARGH, this can't be happening!" Casey cried as she hung up her cell phone and opened her locker.

"What can't be happening?" her best friend, Emily, appeared from around the corner and leaned against the locker next to Casey's.

Casey moaned and rested her forehead against the cold metal of her locker. "Drake Conner just flirted with me, and I had no idea how to flirt back, so I just sort of… sputtered at him. It was terrible."

"Drake Conner?" Emily raised an eyebrow. "Casey, what exactly did you do?" She was starting to look slightly sick.

"Oh, I don't know!" cried Casey. "I tried to toss my hair over my shoulder and ended up slapping my hair in some guy's face. The guy like stumbled into me and knocked me into Drake, who fell against the lockers and ended up landing on his back on the staircase. He's on his way to the emergency room now."

"OH MY GOD, CASEY!" Emily's face was devoid of color and she seemed to be losing control at a faster rate by the second. "Drake Conner is only the hottest prep in school!! And not only that, but he's the class president! How could you do that to him?" She groaned. "I can't believe I'm friends with you, sometimes."

"Hey!" Casey said as she rummaged for her math book in her locker. It was wedged awkwardly inside, and didn't seem to want to come out.

"Sorry, Casey," Emily apologized. "I didn't mean it that way. You're an awesome best friend, but… sometimes I fear for my life when I'm around you."

At that moment, Casey managed to yank her math book out of her locker, but the momentum of her tugging caused her to stumble backwards and into the person walking behind her.

"Hey, hey!" a familiar voice admonished from behind her. Casey closed her eyes briefly before turning around. "You need to learn how to properly move through space without killing someone," Derek wagged a finger in front of Casey's face. She resisted the temptation to snap her teeth at it. She was, after all, far more mature than him.

"Well, I wouldn't have to worry about crashing into you if… if… if you didn't walk so close behind people!" Casey harrumphed.

Derek placed his hand on his chest in a dramatic pose. "Why, Casey, how could you accuse me of something so cruel when _you_ are the one who nearly gave me a concussion with your textbook!"

"Oh, you'll get over it," she mumbled, before turning back to Emily and ignoring Derek. "I've just got to learn how to properly behave around guys. That way, I won't send him to the hospital next time." She paused, eyeing Emily's pale face and wide eyes. "You wouldn't want to help me practice, would you?"

"Oh, hell no," Emily said immediately, "Not after what you did to Drake Conner, and what you almost just did to Derek."

"I heard about what you did to Drake," Derek interjected. "That was an awful, just _awful_ thing to do, Case."

"I know! Stop making me feel worse about it, Derek!"

"Flirting is really not all that difficult," Derek continued, "You've just got to be a pro at it like I am." He smirked down at Casey and ran his hand through his hair. Casey rolled her eyes, disgusted, and turned back to Emily.

A light bulb went off in Emily's head. "Hey, I've got it!"

As if knowing what was coming, Casey felt a sinking feeling in her stomach. She felt Derek shift beside her, as if he too had a feeling. Before he could make his escape, Emily's hand shot out and grabbed the back of his leather jacket. "Not so fast, Derek. We'll be needing you for this plan."

"Look, there is NO WAY I am doing ANY favors for Casey. Sorry Emily."

"I think you will," Emily smirked at him. "Once you see the pictures I have of you from the last time I spent the night in Casey's room."

Derek paled. "You mean—"

"Yep," said Emily, "The ones with you and Lizzie and Edwin playing Barbies with Marti. I bet your friends would love to see those." She paused for dramatic effect. "But… I promise 'cross my heart I'll delete all the pictures and never bring it up again if you just do me and Casey a _tiny_ favor."

Derek sighed. "I should have tossed that camera out the window when I had the chance," Derek moaned to himself. "Ok, what do you want me to do?"

--

"This is ridiculous." Casey faced herself in the mirror in her bedroom. "Are you sure guys are into this kind of outfit?"

"Yes, I'm positive," Derek insisted, muffling his laughter.

They had spent the last fifteen minutes going over Casey's wardrobe as Derek tutored her in what to wear for a date. It was just step one of the elaborate list of things that Emily had insisted he help her with when she had to deal with guys. Casey recollected her best friend's words from that afternoon: "_It's perfect: Derek is a guy, but he's only your step-brother, so he can help tutor you in how to deal with guys!_" Casey hadn't been so sure (and neither had Derek), but Emily had kept threatening him with the Barbie pictures, and kept making Casey feel guilty about sending Drake Conner to the emergency room… so eventually, they had both agreed.

Now, she was standing in her room with a lime green shirt with a plaid design in yellow, and her favorite skirt… which happened to be dark purple with tiny blue flowers on it.

"These colors don't match _at all_. And the patterns of the shirt and skirt clash terribly. Flower print and plaid? Come _on_, Derek. I may be boy-challenged, but I'm not stupid."

"No, no, no, no, _seriously_, Casey, this is just what guys like." Derek walked around her in a circle. "You see, we're such terrible dressers ourselves – myself being the exception, of course – that it makes us feel more comfortable when a girl dresses well, but not _perfectly_. Trust me, Drake will appreciate these… _adorable_ clothes you're wearing, but he'll be glad that they don't outdo his own."

Casey contemplated this for a moment. It _did_ make some sense, in the twisted world of a guy's brain. Maybe Derek was being sincere; he certainly had a rep to maintain, and if he ruined things for her, Emily would show the Barbie pics to the entire student body.

"O-kaaay," Casey said to Derek. "Fine. I'll wear this to school tomorrow. But… what do I _say_ to Drake?"

Derek, who had been lounging on her bed, grinned to himself and leapt up. "Well, you've got to be _very_ short with him, almost bordering on rudeness. It makes a guy even more eager to pursue you. Think 'cat and mouse'."

"Are you serious?" Casey asked in disbelief. "'Bordering on rudeness'? That goes against everything you just told me about the proper clothes to wear."

Derek came to stand in front of Casey, looking very sincere, and placed a hand on her shoulder. "Trust me, Casey," he said, staring directly into her eyes. "Your clothes will be telling him that you're interested in being his equal, while your words will tell him that you're a good catch." He patted her shoulder and waltzed over to examine himself in the mirror. "Which you are."

Casey looked up from tugging at the bright green shirt. "You really think so?" she murmured, almost to herself.

At her words, Derek's nonchalant demeanor faltered for a second, as his shoulders tensed up. Casey could have sworn she saw a rosy blush spread across his cheeks, but the next minute he was plopping down onto her bed again, crinkling the bedcovers, and waving away his comment. "That's what _Drake_ will think. You have to be confident. It's the only thing you've got going for you- minus my wise guidance, of course."

"So, can I practice with you?" Casey blurted out, hiding a blush herself by pretending to fiddle with her hair. This was so awkward…. Why had she ever agreed to it, anyway?

"Um, _what_?" Derek didn't seem to even comprehend her question.

Casey steeled her resolve. If she wanted to flirt with a smart guy with good leadership like Drake Conner, she'd have to learn how to flirt _period_. "I asked if I could practice with you. Just to give me an idea of what to expect from the guy."

"You're not serious, are you?" Derek started to leave the room.

"Fine!" Casey called, "I'll just call Emily and tell her how you _abandoned_ me at my darkest hour."

Derek froze, deflating. "All right, all right!" He turned around and trudged over to stand in front of her. Casey blinked, momentarily surprised at how tall he'd grown. _When had that happened_? she wondered to herself.

"Um," she began, trying to collect her thoughts, "So… do you just want to pretend to be a random guy?"

Derek's jaw was clenched, and he gave her a half shrug. His sleeve brushed her arm, and she felt a tiny prickle where it had touched her bare skin.

_Just take a deep breath, McDonald_, Casey told herself, _It's just Derek. Just _pretend_ that he's Drake Connor, or something_…. She closed her eyes and got "in character" for her flirting. It wouldn't be that hard. Derek was just Derek, he wasn't some hot, muscular guy or the ASB president or anything…

"Hey," Casey smiled sweetly up at Derek, curling a lock of her pigtail in her fingers. "I'm Casey." Her smile grew wider. This wasn't that hard!

"Derek," her stepbrother grinned back. He really had an attractive smile, Casey noted. She wondered if that was his key to getting so many girls (as he _claimed_ to get).

Casey let her curl slip through her fingers, and gave a small giggle. "Are you a sophomore, too?"

"Yeah," Derek replied. Casey waited for him to say something else, but he remained silent, the ghost of a smile still lingering on his lips. His gaze was intense, and it was starting to disconcert her.

"Is this right?" Casey asked suddenly. "Is this flirting?"

"Well, sort of," Derek replied, as if coming out of a stupor. "You've got the hair thing down, but a lot of guys like it when girls give them a big punch in the arm or stomach, or something. It reasserts our manliness."

Casey blinked up at him. "Are you kidding?"

"No, no, it's the truth. Would I really lie about something like this? When Emily has those pictures of me?"

"I guess not…" She scrunched up her mouth. "Do guys like make-up?"

"Some guys do," Derek replied, running a hand through his hair. It only made it spike up in the front.

"Oh…. Do you?"

Derek fingered his necklace and shifted his eyes to somewhere above her left shoulder. "Uh, yeah, some, I guess."

"Do you think I have too much on?" Casey asked, her eyes searching his for the truth.

Derek dropped his gaze to her face, then quickly looked back at whatever he'd been staring at. "You could pass, if you were absolutely desperate to get a guy's attention."

Placing her hands on her hips, Casey glared at him and asked, "What exactly does _that_ mean, Derek Venturi? Are you calling me _ugly_?"

"Not at all," he soothed. "You're just… not my type, if you know what I mean."

"_'Not your type?'_ What do you mean?" Casey fingered her hair and tugged at her skirt self-consciously. "What's wrong with me?"

"Well, for starters, you're too… uh… serious in how you look."

"Serious?"

"Yeah," he replied, plopping down on her bed. "You always look too put-together."

Casey pondered this to herself for a moment, then went to her dresser where the mirror was. She tugged the ponytail holders out of her hair and shook it out. It curled around her shoulders in its loose, natural waves. "Is this better?" she asked, then looked up at Derek through the mirror.

He had been staring at her, but when she met his eyes his gaze left hers immediately. _Probably thinks I'm a real amateur at all this_, Casey groaned inside her head.

"Is this better?" she asked him. He only shrugged.

"Whatever."

Casey slammed her brush down on the dresser's surface and huffed loudly at him. "Why can't you be more helpful?" she demanded. "It's annoying enough that I don't know how to flirt properly, and it doesn't help that I have to resort to getting help from the most annoying guy in school!"

Derek's gaze returned to her, his eyes snapping and his eyebrows furrowed in anger. Casey pressed herself as far back against the dresser as he could – he looked livid.

"All right, I'll help you. This is getting stupid anyway." He stood up. "First of all, guys honestly _don't_ like girls to punch them, or the outfit you're wearing, or anything like that. I just said that to trick you, but you're completely taking the fun out of everything, so I guess I better just tell you." He sighed and threw up his hands. "It's helpless, Casey. I've never met a girl who was so clueless before."

Casey tucked a stray curl behind her ear. "Am I really that terrible?" she asked.

Derek nodded vigorously, but wouldn't meet her eyes. "Then, _please_, Derek, will you help me?" she wailed. "You owe me for trying to trick me. I'll tell Emily if you don't—"

"All right, all right." Derek went to Casey's closet and selected a pink cashmere sweater with dark denim jeans. "Put these on and come find me in my room."

Beaming, Casey reached her arms out to give him a hug, but – as usual – he held up his hands, crying, "No hugs! No hugs!!"

--

Derek pulled his covers over his head, wishing that he could just stay there forever… or at least until he could remember how annoying Casey was. He wasn't sure what was wrong with him… why had he told Casey the truth about what guys like? Why was it so hard to tell her that she was terrible, or that she wasn't his type? When had her hair grown so curly? Why did he keep getting the urge to run his fingers through it? He knew from their many fights that it was soft and silky, but why did he want to brush his fingers through it now?

Derek turned over and shoved his pillow over his head. This was ridiculous. He should have just let Emily show his friends the Barbie pictures. Anything would have been preferable to coaching Casey in flirting.

A soft knock at the door interrupted his musings. "Come in," he mumbled from below his pillow.

The door opened, and he smelled Casey's perfume. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"Wishing that you were anywhere but here, and that I was doing anything but this," he replied.

"Well, the sooner you help me, the sooner your wish will be granted." There was a pause, and then suddenly the pillow was being lifted off his head. "Now tell me what you think."

Derek groaned, sat up, and stared at Casey.

And immediately wished he hadn't.

She looked radiant in the outfit he'd chosen for her. The pink sweater flattered her body and brought out a glow in her skin, and the dark jeans showed off her long legs. She'd added some dusky eye shadow, he noted, and it accentuated the blue of her eyes.

"Uh…" he managed, playing with his necklace, "Looks great. Definite improvement over the last outfit." He pulled himself together. "What were you thinking when you chose it, anyway?" he asked with a smirk.

Her eyes widened and she started hitting him with his pillow. "You" _whack_ "KNOW" _smack_ "that it was" _whack-whack_ "YOUR idea!!"

Casey continued to hit him with the pillow. "Ow!" Derek cried as she gave him a big whack in the face. He grabbed the pillow and yanked it out of her arms. The momentum caused her to fall, laughing, into his lap.

He stared down at her, waiting for her to finish laughing and realize what had just happened. She did in a matter of seconds. Her smile slipped away as she met his gaze, her bright blue eyes just as intense as his brown ones. "Um…" Casey mumbled, and Derek noted the deep blush spreading across her cheeks. "Is this—is this how you're supposed to flirt?"

"The basics, yeah," Derek tried for a nonchalant tone, but it ended up sounding like he was choking. What was the matter with his throat?

Casey straightened her sweater, and met his eyes again, a determined look in her eyes that he knew all too well. "Do you—" she cleared her throat. "Do you think we should keep practicing?"

Derek nodded, too distracted to even fake a cavalier shrug.

"Ok," Casey whispered. She gave him a tentative smile, causing her lips to shine from her lip-gloss.

"Well, um, I guess I should talk about myself, or something," Casey muttered. "I think that's what you're supposed to do when you flirt. I mean, I obviously don't know – God, I put a guy in the hospital when I tried – so I could be totally wrong, but something tells me that friendly conversation is the best way to start. The bonding between two people of opposite genders is supposed to—"

Derek cut her off with a brief, but deep, kiss. Her lips were soft and warm, and brought a tingly sensation to his own mouth. He had just slipped his tongue inside her mouth when she abruptly broke away, gasping slightly.

"Derek, what are you doing…?"

He leaned back against his bed, putting his hands behind his head. "That, my inexperienced sister, is called kissing."

Casey remained silent for a single beat, then blurted, "I'm not your sister." She was blushing like mad. If Derek hadn't felt the heat in his own face, he would have snickered at her. And if he hadn't felt so… at odds with himself.

"You know," he drawled, "You're not supposed to shove a guy off you when he starts to French you."

"I-I know that," Casey mumbled. "I just—well, it was weird… doing it with you."

At this, Derek feigned a hurt look. "Me?" he asked, placing a hand on his chest. "But I was voted best kisser by the school last year for the yearbook!"

"Funny," Casey snapped. She had adjusted her sweater and in the process managed to scoot away from him slightly. "You're a real catch, Derek. God, how could I have resisted your charms for so long, living with you 24/7?"

"Must have been tough," Derek nodded, giving her a smack on her thigh.

"Hey!" she cried. "That was SO not okay, Derek!"

He rolled his eyes at her. "Whatever, Casey. I _know_ how much you enjoy my attention."

"Well, you're very, very wrong about that," she seethed. "I would like for nothing more than to just walk out of this room and never see your face again!"

"Well, there's the door. Feel free to leave at any time. I'll even knock the charge off your bill for you."

The blush returned to Casey's face, and she tucked a lock of hair behind her ear nervously. "Um, as great as that would be… I was kinda hoping that… that youwouldkeepteachingme," she mumbled under her breath.

"I'm sorry, what was that?" Derek put a hand to his ear. "I didn't quite catch that one, Case."

Casey gave a loud groan and repeated, "I was kind of hoping that you might keep teaching me."

"Teaching… what, exactly?"

"Teaching me how to… French kiss!" Casey's face was bright red. Derek laughed at her.

"You look like a tomato!" he wheezed between bursts of laughter.

"Hilariously original," Casey retorted. "I'm serious though, Derek. You had a point about my shoving you off when you started making out with me." She chewed her lip. "What if I do that to Drake and he breaks his other leg?"

"Hmm," Derek rubbed his chin and pretended to concentrate on the situation. This was really the best situation EVER. Thank God he'd taken Emily up on this one… he was never going to let Casey live this one down. "Well, I guess I could tutor you for a bit longer. But… this is really more than Emily requested, so I think I'm going to need something extra for it."

Casey rolled her eyes. "How about the warm fuzzies you get from helping me?"

"Haha… NO." Derek got off the bed and strolled across his floor to his desk. "This essay for English is really giving me some trouble. I mean, three pages on William Fawkner? Ridiculous."

"It's _Faulkner_," Casey said through gritted teeth. "And he was a genius. He used stream-of-consciousness to communicate the—"

"Fascinating," Derek cut her off. "Really. I can definitely tell that you were _made_ for doing this assignment for me, just like I was _made_ for Frenching you."

There was a long, awkward silence as Derek realized what he had just said. "Uh," he mumbled, and mentally kicked himself for turning bright red himself. "What I meant is that my… my expertise as the school charmer should be used on the less fortunate than myself." _Damn it_, he thought to himself. _Way to be smooth, Venturi_.

"Um, right," Casey nodded, not meeting his eyes. "So, I can do the essay for you. It' _is_ only three pages, I guess." She tugged at her sweater and lifted her head in the air in a haughty way. "Now, let's get down to business."

"…And _DEFEAT… THE HUNS!_" Derek shouted. "Love that movie."

"Oh. My. God," Casey was staring at him now. "I can't believe you memorized that song. You know it's Disney, right?"

Derek faked a shocked look and staggered into his desk chair. "Oh, God, are you serious? My life is ruined, boo hoo, etcetera."

Casey threw her arms up and shook her head at the heavens. "Why, WHY did I get stuck with you for a step-brother?"

"It was God's way of punishing you ahead of time for putting Drake in the hospital. And for taking advantage of good-looking guys like myself by forcing us to teach you the art of flirtation."

"It was a hypothetical question," seethed Casey. "Now, can we just get this over with?"

"Glad to," Derek said, "But these things take time. It's supposed to be a tender, romantic experience. You just can't rush it, Casey. You've got to _enjoy_ it."

"Well, I may as well go French George than, for all the enjoyment I'll be getting out of this."

"OH MY GOD," Derek covered his ears and squeezed his eyes shut. "I AM SCARRED FOR LIFE."

"Your dad is kinda hot, you know," Casey muttered to herself, completely unfazed.

"Who's kind of hot?" a voice asked from the doorway.

--

Nora stood in the doorway, a basket of Derek's laundry balancing on her hip. She must have opened the door without them hearing.

"Um," Casey tried to think of something that made sense that wasn't totally gross, or at all related to the Venturi family.

"Casey's into Dad," Derek supplied, grinning.

"NO," Case choked out. Livid, she glared daggers at him and added, "That's not what I said, God, Derek. I was mentioning how… uh… Drake Conner is really hot."

Nora nodded, and set the laundry down on one of the few spots of Derek's floor that didn't have stuff on it. "I see… But why are you talking to Derek about it?"

"She wants me to get his phone number, and I'm being a nuisance to her as usual," Derek said.

"Ah," Nora said. "Well, you two keep having fun together. Can you be done for dinner? It's in an hour."

"Oh, I _definitely_ plan on being done by then," Casey replied, crossing her arms and narrowing her eyes at her stepbrother.

"Great!" Nora winked at them. "Good luck with Drake Conner, honey!" She went back downstairs. Casey leapt up and slammed the door shut, locked it, and spun around to face Derek.

"You are _so dead_," she hissed. "I can't believe you actually said I was into your _Dad_!"

"Hey, well, it was revenge on you for alluding to his…" he waved his hands wildly as if trying to communicate his point without words, "general appearance in the first place."

Casey rolled her eyes. "Ok, Derek. I'm not into your dad, I just think he's a good-looking adult. End of story. DO NOT mention it again." She shuddered. "And especially not to my mom."

"Sounds like a plan," he replied. "Now, where were we? I've got a lot left to teach you, and we only have an hour."

"I can hardly wait," Casey muttered under her breath.

Derek got up off his desk chair and motioned for her to take his place. Casey rose from the bed and raised an eyebrow. "For the guest of honor," Derek smirked. She said down, but not before flinging a dirty sock away. "Huh, Nora must have missed that one." Derek's smirk grew.

"You are disgusting." Casey fought a gag. "I'm not sure I can willingly put my mouth near yours again. God only knows what sort of things you do in your spare time."

Derek pretended to ponder this for a moment. "Yeah. You don't want to know."

Casey shuddered and squealed, "EW, Derek, GROSS."

"Hey, I'm a healthy sixteen-year-old guy, what can I say? But don't worry, it has nothing to do with that sock." He winked at her.

"OKAAAAY," Casey suppressed yet another shudder. "NEW TOPIC."

"Right-o," Derek came to stand in front of her. She caught a whiff of his aftershave. It gave her a heady sensation, and she blinked for a moment. It smelled… _good_. Odd.

"What are you doing?" she asked as he gazed down at her for a moment.

"Taking our lesson to the next step," he said, and gave her a slow, lingering gaze that went from her pink toenails and all the way up to her shiny brown hair. Placing his hands on the arms of the chair, he leaned over, moving his face slowly towards hers.

"Um, Derek?" Casey squeaked.

"Shhh," he whispered, placing his finger on her plump lip. "Lesson #1 – stop ruining the mood." His lips were getting closer and closer, and somehow one of his hands had slipped down to rest lightly on the chair pillow, so that it was just brushing her thigh. "Lesson #2 – relax." His mouth was just centimeters from her lips. When he spoke, his warm breath tickled her skin and smelled of peppermint and chocolate and… _wait a minute!_ Casey thought to herself, _was that ALCOHOL_?

She started to sit up and push him away, demanding, "Hold on, Derek, have you been—"

"Lesson #3," Derek said, shoving her back into the chair and whispering into her ear, "_Enjoy_."

Before Casey could react, she felt his lips meet hers as he started slowly kissing her. In an instant, his tongue slipped past her lips and his hot breath mingled with her own. He moved his hand from the armrest and tangled it with her hair, pressing it against her neck, while the other one near her leg started sliding up her outer thigh. Casey gave a small gasp as he moved it onto her lip, gripping her lower back through the fabric of the sweater. As if on instinct, her own hands reached up and wrapped around his neck, pulling him down on top of her. His kissing was growing more intense now, and he slid his hand under her sweater to brush, tantalizingly, against her hot, bare skin. Casey found herself pushing her hands under his cotton shirt and feeling his smooth, toned torso, and slid her hands over the hard skin of his lower back.

A distant door slam startled Casey out of her passionate moment with Derek. She abruptly pushed away from him and sat up, her hand still under his T-shirt. Both listened silently for any sign of life beyond Derek's locked door. The only sound came from their rapid breathing.

As her fear of being discovered faded, Casey realized what had been happening, and immediately jerked her hand out from under Derek's shirt. His own hands stopped trying to fiddle with her bra strap, and Casey watched him withdraw them to his side. "Derek!" she exclaimed. "What were you—"

"It's called 'Second Base,' Casey, and we were about to go there if you hadn't had a complete panic attack in the middle of things."

Glaring, Casey crossed her arms over her chest in a protective manner. "Well, my body is _my_ body, and certainly not anyone's _second base_." She paused and tilted her head in thought. "Is that a guy phrase? It sounds like hockey talk."

Derek groaned. "It's _baseball_, actually. And the whole point of flirting is to progress to these steps. Haven't you ever heard of them? How old are you now? Eight?"

Casey rolled her eyes and whacked him in the arm. "Fifteen, only six months younger than you."

"Well, _I_ happen to have gone to second base before, and let me tell you: it's well worth the hassle of The Bra Strap."

"Haha, funny." Casey sighed and picked at a loose thread in Derek's quilt. "Derek?" she asked after a moment.

"Hmm?" he responded, as if to the eight-year-old that he had accused her of acting like, and Casey looked up to meet his eyes defiantly.

"What-what exactly are the steps to flirting? I mean, what is first base, and second, and all the others?"

"Woah, woah, woah." He waved his hands frantically in front of her. "You're not seriously asking me to describe them to you, right?"

She crossed her legs and batted her eyelashes at him. "Oh, please, Smerek?"

"Hey!" This time he held just one hand in front of her like a stop sign, "Only Smarti gets to call me that." She rolled her eyes, and he continued, "And just know that I've warned you, ok? So if you get… disgusted or grossed out, you can't blame me."

"For once," Casey muttered under her breath.

Derek ignored her and continued, "Well, they're actually beyond the flirting point. More like… the _action_ point. Essentially, the entire reason for flirting altogether. You start at first base, which is just making out. That's what we—uh… yeah." A blush crept up Derek's neck and to his cheeks, and he seemed to be trying extra hard not to meet her eyes.

"Well, anyway, first base is French kissing. Then second base is feeling each other up."

"Ew." Casey made a face.

"So _not_ ew," Derek said, glaring at her. "Not when it's with the right girl…." He grinned dreamily. "Like Hannah Peters."

"Yeah, whatever. Let's skip the history lesson, ok?"

"Oh, my love life would be like no history lesson you've heard before. Trust me, even _I_ would join _that_ class."

"Yeah, figures!" said Casey. "You'd be the main focus!"

"Ex-_act_-ly." Derek flashed her a grin and tousled her hair.

"Oh my God, Derek!" screeched Casey, attempting to flatten the mussed strands. She lurched at Derek and leaned over him to tousle his own hair, but he managed to flip her onto her back. Leaning over her, he in a low, sexy voice, "I'm afraid I haven't finished telling you the rest of the bases."

Casey gulped. She was starting to regret asking her attractive stepbrother this question. Wait, no! He wasn't attractive… he was irritating! _Ugh_, Casey groaned inside her head.

"Third base," Derek said, his chocolate brown eyes locked on Casey, "is essentially oral sex, or a hand job."

Casey's face heated up, but she found herself frozen below Derek's gaze, unable to shove him away or to pull him against her.

"And last is called 'Homebase.' It means having sex." Derek's mouth was inches from her own, and Casey felt a hot spark of what felt like electricity tingle between their lips, and dance down her body until it reached just below her stomach….

"EW!" she screeched, more from her fear of the effect that his husky voice was having on her body, than from actual disgust. She shoved him away from her and leapt off his bed.

Derek's reaction was to collapse on his bed with laughter. "Oh man," he managed to gasp a few moments later, while Casey glared at him from across the room, "That was hilARious." He feigned wiping away a tear. "You amuse me to no end, Casey McDonald. Did I mention how much I love you?"

At his words, Derek stopped laughing, paused, and cleared his throat awkwardly. Casey rubbed her upper arms and shifted her weight to her other foot. Neither spoke for a moment, but the silence soon became almost unbearable. "Um," Casey mumbled to the floor, "I think that's enough lessons for one night."

Derek nodded. "I think you've learned all you can handle for one night." He smirked up at her from his bed.

Casey's eyes flashed, and she waltzed over to stand directly in front of him. "Oh?" she murmured as she leaned over him. "You think you're too much for me to handle, do you?" With that she cupped her hands around his face and pressed her mouth to his for a heartbeat, then pulled away and smirked at her stepbrother. Derek's eyes were closed, his finely-shaped eyebrows drawn slightly from his frustration at her breaking off their kiss.

"Well," Casey bopped his nose teasingly with her index finger, and gave him an innocent smile. "Think again, Derek. Think again."

She started to pull away and leave, but Derek snatched her wrist and wrapped his arms around her waist, trailing a finger lightly in circles on the small of her back. "Casey, Casey, Casey," he smirked, shaking his head at her. "When will you ever learn?" He pressed a kiss onto the soft flesh of her inner wrist, all the while keeping eye contact with her. Casey's breath seemed to snag somewhere inside of her, and she found herself panting slightly at the tingly feeling his lips had on her skin.

"I don't think, Casey," Derek murmured into her wrist, then lifted his head and pulled her down into his lap. "I simply… _do_."

--

"Oh my God," Lizzie huffed, rubbing her sore hand. "What is Derek doing in there anyway?" She had just spent the last 30 seconds pounding at his door, but the only thing she'd gotten out of her efforts was a painful fist. "And where's Casey? Mom's going to go bonkers if we don't bring them down for dinner!"

"I'm sure there's a good reason for Derek's behavior," Edwin gave Lizzie a smile. "Anyway, is it really worth your time to keep hurting your hand?" He draped an arm around Lizzie's shoulder and started to steer her away from the door. At that moment, Casey emerged from the room, her hair slightly disheveled and with a dazed, dreamy look on her face.

"Oh- hi Lizzie, Edwin," Casey beamed at them, looking as though she hadn't even noticed their presences. "Is it dinner time?"

"Uh… yeah," Lizzie scratched her head and glanced at Edwin. He looked just as confused as she was.

"So… were you helping Derek with homework, or something?" he asked.

"Hmm?" Casey mumbled, entering the bathroom and adjusting her wrinkled sweater. "Oh! No, he was actually tutoring _me_." With that enigmatic statement, she waltzed out of the bathroom and danced down the stairs, humming softly to herself.

Lizzie and Edwin just stood there for a moment, completely thrown off guard by the fact that Casey's state of mind was so cheery, right after she'd just spent the last hour in Derek's presence. They were even more confused when Derek came out of his room a moment after, with a huge grin on his face and his own hair even more tousled than usual.

"Evening," he said, rumpling Edwin's gelled hair as he walked by them. "How's it goin', you two?" Derek's head seemed to be in the clouds just as much as Casey's had been.

"Had a good tutoring lesson, then?" Edwin growled, trying in vain to smooth his ruined hair.

Derek paused, staring somewhere above their heads, a grin still plastered to his face. "Oh, it was _mar_-velous," he sighed. "Course, Casey and I'll prob'ly have to have another lesson after dinner, so make sure you make yourselves scarce." He slapped the banister and spun to face them, looking gleeful and mischievous. "_Very_ scarce, got it?"

"Yes, sir," Edwin saluted, and Lizzie nodded.

"Good. I'm off to… do some homework," Derek didn't seem to know what he was saying, and Edwin exchanged glances with Lizzie again, his brow furrowed in worry.

"Homework, Derek?" Lizzie asked.

"Aren't you coming down to dinner? Casey just went downstairs."

Derek seemed to notice them for the first time. "Oh did she? Well, then, I guess I better get down there!" He paused at their shocked expressions, and said, "And, uh… harass her, or whatever." It seemed to Lizzie that Derek flew down the stairs faster than usual.

For a good ten seconds, there was silence. Then Lizzie shook her head and cried, "Teenagers are _so weird_!!"

"You don't have to tell me, twice," Edwin looked grim. "But I think our Casey and Derek are weirder than all the rest."

"I think you're right."

"_De-REK!_" Casey's voice floated upstairs. "_Stop it!!_"

Derek's loud laughter followed, and he replied, "_Hope you can get a ketchup stain the size of Vancouver out of that sweater!_"

Lizzie and Edwin laughed. "Well, looks like things are back to normal," Edwin chuckled when he could catch his breath.

"Thank God," Lizzie wheezed.

"Now, my dear, shall we join them for dinner?" Edwin grinned down at Lizzie and offered her his arm.

"Why, yes. Thank you, Edwin!" Lizzie slid her arm through his crooked elbow.

They marched downstairs together and entered the kitchen. At the sight of a very angry looking – and ketchup-covered – Casey, clutching a ketchup bottle and chasing after a smirking and laughing Derek, Lizzie and Edwin shook their heads.

"Teenagers," Lizzie sighed in mock annoyance.

Edwin nodded at her, grinning. "Ya gotta love 'em."


End file.
